


Sex and Sensibility

by a_splash_of_stucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brief mentions of canon-typical violence, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Male Masturbation, Masturbation, Multi, Polyamory, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Skype Sex, Smut, even if it doesn't completely make sense grammatically, for literally like 2 lines, humping, oh well, steve rogers is horny, the author is very proud of the title, tumblr prompt fill, very horny, we tried fam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: Steve loses all his inhibitions after inhaling an unknown substance during a mission. You and Bucky aren’t exactly sympathetic when it comes to looking after him.Alternatively: the one where Steve is horny and tries to hump the living daylights out of anything that moves :D





	Sex and Sensibility

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was written for a challenge on Tumblr [(this one)](http://emilyevanston.tumblr.com/post/173794573249/im-not-exactly-sure-whats-been-going-on-with-my/) where the objective is to take a fanfic trope and put a completely new twist on it. 
> 
> I chose 'sex pollen' and this is what I came up with. Not sure how much trope=flipping I managed to achieve, but I don't think it's your conventional sex-pollen fic, that's for sure. I tried, y'all. I tried.

Being an Avenger means that you’ve had your fair share of weird conversations. From defence tactics against alien invasions, to the logistics of body-swapping, you’ve talked about it all. Still, you never expected to end up in this situation: debating the ethics of sex pollen with your husbands on pizza night.

“So…you wouldn’t fuck me if I got sex-pollened, is that what you’re saying?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve scoffs, leaning back against the couch and folding his arms over his chest. “’M not even gonna answer that ‘cause it’s a stupid question,” he mutters darkly.

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky retorts.

The corners of Steve’s mouth turn down in confusion. “I–what–you—that doesn’t even make  _sense_.”

“ _You_ don’t make sense.”

“Really, Buck? That’s the best you could come up with?”

Bucky bristles. “Come at me then, punk—,”

“Oh my god, will you two quit it?” you groan, shoving at Bucky’s side with your foot. You and Bucky are sprawled out on your living room floor, beside the couch that Steve is sitting on.

“I swear,” you grouse, “You two might be a hundred years old, but ya’ act like you’re toddlers.”

“Oh, fuck you, Y/N,” Bucky says.

You flutter your eyelashes demurely. “Well, if you’re nice…maybe.”

Steve snorts.

You crane your neck around to look at him, your eyebrow arched in a silent question, as you tilt your head towards Bucky. Steve throws his hands up in exasperation.

“What else d’you want me to say, Y/N?” he asks, “No! That’s it! That’s my final answer – if either of you were sex-pollened and asked me to have sex with you, I wouldn’t do it.”

“But we’re  _asking_ you,” you point out. “Surely that counts—,”

“But you’re under the influence of something!” Steve insists, sitting up and leaning forward. “It’s—that’s not  _real_  consent. Even if you say yes, you’re—you’re not in your right mind, and you mightn’t know to say no if we did things you weren’t okay with, so it’d…” he grimaces, “It’d kinda be like me raping you.”

Bucky makes a noise of protest. “But what if I  _told_ you to—,”

“Still wouldn’t do it,” he insists.

You sigh, leaning heavily into Bucky’s side, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “Morally unshakeable to a tee,” you mutter.

Bucky huffs in frustration. “Okay, but how ‘bout this–,”

“Bucky,  _why_ are you so insistent?” Steve cries.

“Because I gotta be right, goddamn it, I need to win,” Bucky replies. “For my fragile self-worth.”

Steve shakes his head and rolls his eyes in fond annoyance.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Bucky continues, “What if you didn’t have a choice? What if the sex pollen was a fuck or die situation? You  _needed_ to fuck someone – or have someone fuck you, whatever – or you’d die.”

You lift your head up from Bucky’s shoulder to look at Steve, whose brows are furrowed as he considers the question. “I…I dunno,” he says finally, voice quiet, as if this is paining him to admit. “I’d like to say that I wouldn’t, but in that situation…”

Bucky grins triumphantly as Steve’s voice trails off. “So, I win?”

Steve groans, grabbing the nearest throw pillow and chucking it at Bucky’s head. “Nah,” he says, “I didn’t say yes or no. ‘Sides, who uses sex pollen anyway? That’s so 2016.”

——————

As luck would have it, Steve speaks too soon.

It happened on a mission in Nigeria. Steve and Bucky were sent to search an abandoned warehouse that had once been a HYDRA storage facility.

When they arrived, they discovered that the place was most certainly  _not_ abandoned.

Luckily, there were only about two dozen guards in the whole place, who were no match against Steve’s shield or Bucky’s knife skills. However, in the last minutes of the fight, one of the guards whipped out a cannister and managed to spray a yellowish-green substance directly into Steve’s nose and mouth.

Thus far, Steve hasn’t collapsed and died, which can only be a good sign. He and Bucky are headed home on the quinjet, now. Steve’s throat feels a little ticklish and itchy, but besides that, he’s alright. Steve pilots the jet whilst Bucky cleans his guns in the back. They’ve radioed ahead with a brief mission report, bringing everyone at the compound up to speed; there will be a team waiting in the med bay when they arrive.

When they get to the compound, the tickle in Steve’s throat has intensified, and his skin is starting to feel a little prickly. There’s still nothing that is of huge concern to him, but he and Bucky hurry down to the medical facilities, nonetheless.

“You feelin’ okay, Stevie?” Bucky asks, as he and Steve step into the elevator.

Steve shrugs. “Kinda itchy, maybe a little lightheaded, but nothin’ too bad. It’s mostly just hurts from the actual fighting, really.”

Bucky grunts in acknowledgement.

Bruce, Tony and Dr Anjali Sharma – the compound’s on-site GP – are waiting at the med bay when Steve and Bucky arrive.

“C’mon, Steve, let’s have you lie down so that FRIDAY can scan you,” Bruce says, as he takes Steve by the elbow and guides him to the examining table. Bucky drags a stool over so that he can keep watch.

Once Steve’s on his back, a green light appears from the ceiling. It sweeps up and down his body several times as FRIDAY scans his vitals. Bruce and Tony bend over some display screens at the foot of the examination table, poring over the data that FRIDAY has obtained.

“Captain Rogers, I hope you don’t mind me taking some samples?” Dr Sharma asks, as she holds up a handful of syringes and gestures at his arm.

“Of course,” Steve replies, sitting up so that he can undo the zip on the side of his tac gear. He wiggles his arms out of the sleeves and holds one out for Dr Sharma.

“So, Steve, tell me how you’ve been feeling since you got sprayed,” Bruce asks.

“Uh…my throat’s been feelin’ kinda itchy, and it’s gotten worse since we left,” Steve says, “Um…my skin’s been a little prickly, been feelin’ a little lightheaded…nothing crazy.”

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes – your wife is about to arrive at the medical suite,” FRIDAY announces.

“She’s gonna kill you, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs.  

“It wasn’t even my fault!”

When the elevator doors slide open, Steve grimaces. Your expression is  _far_ from pleased.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you growl, as you stomp over to the examination table. “Why the  _fuck_ did you go and ingest a random—,”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Steve protests, “The guy just— _oof_.”

The breath gets knocked out of Steve when you through your arms around his torso. Dr Sharma respectfully angles her body to the side, so that she can continue taking her samples without intruding on your moment. Steve wraps his free arm around you, turning his nose into your hair and breathing in your warm, familiar scent.

Something inside him snaps.

It feels like someone’s lit a fire underneath his skin, a raging inferno that has left him hyper-sensitive and buzzing with energy. His senses have been dialled to the max; he’s acutely aware of the roughness of his tac gear against his skin, of the softness of your body against his. He’s compelled with the urge to taste you, so Steve gets his finger under your chin and tips your head back, his lips meeting yours in an impassioned kiss. You huff in surprise but respond in kind, your fingers carding through his hair. Steve’s tongue teases at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance to your mouth. His blood is thrumming through his veins, pulse roaring in his ears.

“Woah, woah, Steve—your heart rate’s just spiked,” Bruce comments.

You cup Steve’s jaw in your hands and twist your face away from him, gasping for breath. “Honey, what’s gotten into you?” you pant, trying to wriggle free from his iron grip.

“You smell good,” Steve mumbles, “Y/N, baby doll, sugar–c’mon, I want you.”

Bucky snorts. You sputter in shock. “I—Steve, what the hell? You’re  _hurt_ , let me go, c’mon, let Dr Sharma finish checking on you.”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve pouts, trying to catch your lips again. “Baby, baby doll, sweetheart, c’mere, lemme kiss you, yeah? Wanna kiss you sugar, you’re so sweet for me, c’mon, please?”

You twist out of his grasp,  _just_  as his lips are about to reconnect with yours. Dismayed, Steve whines like a kicked puppy as he watches you dance out of his reach. You have a perplexed expression on your face, Bucky is snickering, and Steve is  _not happy_.

“Y/N,” he pleads, pouting his bottom lip and making grabby-hands at you.

“Would someone like to tell me what is up with our dearest Capsicle?” Tony asks.

“His pupils are extremely dilated,” Dr Sharma comments, as she stands up, having finished collecting her samples. She carries them to the station at the foot of the examination table and inserts the tubes into various holders, tapping a few buttons to start the analysis.

“His voice has also gotten a bit deeper,” Bruce observes. “Dilated pupils, accelerated heartrate…”

“FRIDAY, what’s that?” Tony asks, pointing to something on the screen.

“It seems to be an unknown compound which has entered Captain Rogers’ bloodstream, boss,” FRIDAY replies. “The compound appears to have a plant-based origin, and is a derivative of methamphetamine, known to cause enhanced libido at high doses, which would explain Captain Rogers’ current state.”

“So…he got sex-pollened,” Bucky says slowly.

“What—no, there’s no pollen involved here,” Bruce says distractedly.

“Okay, but like…the same principle applies, right? Steve’s got a sex drug in him,” Bucky presses.

“Essentially, yes,” Dr Sharma mutters. She’s looking over Bruce’s shoulder, frowning at the display.

Steve groans quietly and presses the heel of his palms to his eyes. Now that he thinks about it, he  _does_ feel pretty horny. If he had it in him to be embarrassed, he would be – but as it stands, the drug seems to have erased those worries from his mind. Steve can feel his cock stirring in his tac pants and prays that he doesn’t pop a boner whilst he’s in the med bay.

“Is he gonna die?” Bucky asks, “Is it a fuck or die kinda situation?”

Steve frowns. Bucky sounds worryingly gleeful about his condition.

“I highly doubt it,” Bruce replies, “But…we’ll need to run a few more tests.”

“Does this mean Steve  _has_ to have sex?” you ask.

“Only if he wants to, and if someone’s willing to have sex with him,” Bruce says, turning to look at you. “All that bullshit about sex pollen is just that – bullshit. An orgasm is an orgasm, regardless of whether you got some help getting there or not.”

Tony cocks his head to the side. “So, what you’re saying is that there’s no difference between…a self-induced climax and an assisted one?”

“Not physically, at least,” Dr Sharma says. “Psychologically, yes, the experience is quite different, but in terms of the biological response? They’re basically identical.”

“So how  _would_ someone make this a fuck or die situation? Hypothetically speaking, of course,” Tony wonders.  

“I don’t know! Maybe—maybe require the transfer of bodily fluids or something, I don’t know!” Bruce says exasperatedly. “Now please, Tony, unless you’re going to make yourself useful—,”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Tony grumbles, “Wouldn’t want our favourite super soldier – no offense Barnes, you’re more of a knock-off super-soldier – to die on us, would we?”

Steve, who, up until this point, had been more focused on keeping his dick calm than paying attention to the conversation, chooses to tune in at this moment.

“Wait, what?” he exclaims, “I’m gonna die?”

“No, you’re  _not_  going to die,” Dr Sharma growls, clearly exasperated.

“Well…we’re pretty sure you’re not gonna die,” Bruce amends.

Dr Sharma grits her teeth. “You’re going to  _feel_ like you might die, but you won’t  _actually_ die,” she says, as she shoots Bruce a murderous glare.

“How do you know?” Steve asks, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice.

“From what I can see, there is nothing in FRIDAY’s analysis to suggest a time-sensitive poison or similar compound in your bloodstream,” she explains. “Orgasms will likely help you burn through the aphrodisiac faster, but you won’t die if you choose to refrain from sexual activities.”

“Hmm, what time is it in Wakanda?” Bruce asks, distracted, “I’ll send this over to Shuri, see what she makes of it.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you interrupt, “For Steve – I mean, do we keep him in the med bay, does someone need to supervise him?”

Dr Sharma considers the question. “I think it will be alright for him to return to your rooms. His healing factor will take care of the other injuries from the mission and FRIDAY can monitor his vitals.”

“As for supervision? Well, that is up to you, as his husband and wife,” she says, gesturing to you and Bucky. “Sex would probably make the experience more bearable, but I leave that to your discretion.”

“We’re not having sex with Steve,” Bucky decides.

“Wait, what?” Steve squawks, turning to look at him. “Why not?”

Bucky stands up with his hands in his pockets, a devilish grin on his face. “Because you’re under the influence of a  _drug_ , Stevie, you can’t give us your full consent.”

“But— _Bucky_ , c’mon, I know what I want, and I want  _you_.”

“Nu-uh, Steve, no can do,” you say, sidling up to Bucky’s side. “We’re just tryna do the right thing, here.”

“The right thing to do is to  _fuck me_ ,” Steve insists.

“That’s not what you said when we had this discussion last week,” Bucky says.

“You’re not supposed to use my own words against me!”

“Mmmhmm, well maybe this’ll teach you to be more careful when you’re out on missions,” you say sarcastically.

“Does no one have any sympathy for me?” Steve grumbles.

You snort. “Stevie, you’re getting a green pass to lounge around naked and masturbate – frankly, I think most of us are  _envious_  of you.”

——————

You put Bucky in charge of wrestling Steve back to your rooms – wrestling in the literal sense of the word – whilst you, Natasha and Sam run out to get some supplies for Steve. You’re gone for about two hours. Bruce greets you at the garage when you return, eager to deliver his news.

“Shuri’s taken a look at it,” he tells you, as he helps unload the bags out of your car. “She says that she can probably cook up an antidote, but it’ll take 24 hours to ferment – Dr Sharma estimates that Steve’s metabolism will probably burn through the compound in the same amount of time.”

“Are you still gonna make the antidote?” Sam asks.

Bruce nods. “Just in case his system  _doesn’t_ manage to flush it out. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it,” he sighs, as you, Nat and Sam divvy up the bags between you. “FRIDAY’s been giving us updates and—well, you’ll see when you get there.”

You can’t help but feel a little bit worried by that statement, but Bruce assures you that Steve’s not in pain – Bucky’s just having a hard time containing him. You, Nat and Sam hasten to bring everything back to your rooms.

When you arrive, you’re greeted by quite the spectacle. Steve is kneeling in the middle of the living room floor, shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants that do nothing to conceal his erection. Red hemp cord criss-crosses his body in a network of intricate knots; he has a silk blindfold on and a ball gag in his mouth. Bucky is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands and looks up when he hears you come in, a grateful expression on his face.

“Was the only way I could get him to hold still,” Bucky explains tiredly, answering the unspoken question on your face. “He’s been humping literally every piece of furniture, and—yeah. Let’s get him into the bedroom.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” you agree. Steve whines loudly when he hears your voice. Bucky sighs wearily, dragging a hand down his face.

“Wilson. C’mon. You can help me restrain him,”

In your peripheral vision, you see Sam’s eyes widen in horror. “I did not sign up for this shit, man,” he grumbles, as he hands you the bags that he’d been carrying.  

Nat follows you to the bedroom and starts helping you unpack, unboxing the sex toys and laying them out at the foot of the bed. The three of you may have gone a little overboard – there are a selection of dildos, a fleshlight, a multitude of vibrators and butt plugs, nipple clamps and three gigantic bottles of lube.

On the bedside table, you set out a load of protein balls, energy bars and several pieces of fruit, plus some energy drinks, a few bottles of water and a couple of packets of wet wipes and tissues.

“Damn, we should’ve gotten him some Playboy mags,” Nat mutters, as the two of you survey your preparations.

“Nah, he’s got a special folder on his phone for ‘inspiration’,” you tell her.

She blanches. “TMI, Y/N, TMI.”

The two of you flinch when a loud whine signal Steve, Sam and Bucky’s arrival at the bedroom. You turn around and when you see them, you have to suppress the urge to giggle; Steve is draped over Sam’s back, doing his best impression of a koala. From the movement of his hips, you can tell that he’s trying to grind his cock against Sam’s ass. Bucky is grinning like a maniac behind them, whilst Sam’s expression is the most disgruntled you’ve ever seen it.

“ _Ugh,_ Steve, man—I don’t, c’mon, now—nu-uh, Steven you are not some  _dog_ ,” Sam grouses, as he tries to wriggle out of Steve’s grip. “Your mama raised you better than this.”

Sam manages to break free and quickly dances out of arm’s reach. Steve grumbles in protest. You note that Nat’s got her phone out and has filmed the whole ordeal. Sam glares at her.  

Steve’s eyes light up when they fall on you. Before you even have time to react, he’s managed to pull you into his arms and crush your lips together. You yelp in surprise and try to push him off of you, but that’s pretty difficult when Steve’s doing his level best to suck all the oxygen from your lungs.

“Aaaand that’s our cue to go,” Sam decides. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him grabbing Natasha’s hand and hauling her out the door. “Bye guys, good luck dealing with this one, holler if you need any help!” he yells.

“Or if he does something stupid!” Natasha adds. The front door slams shut behind them.

When Steve’s lips finally part from yours, you suck in a huge breath.

“Steve, let me  _go_ ,” you protest, squirming in his grip. He doesn’t let you go, but you manage to turn around, putting your back to his chest. Steve presses wet kisses to the side of your neck and winds his arms around your waist as he lazily humps your ass. His skin feels unusually hot, like he’s running a fever – probably a side-effect of the drug. Bucky emerges from the en-suite, a pile of towels in his hands.

“Honey, darlin’, baby,” Steve croons, as his hand slips under your t-shirt. “C’mon, you’re wearin’ too much, wanna see you naked, please?”

From the bed, where he’s laying out the towels, you can see Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin like, like he’s trying hard not to laugh. He meets your gaze and shakes his head fondly.

“Sugar, baby doll, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, as he nibbles on your ear lobe. “C’mon, wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good around me, sweetheart, y’know that? Wanna be inside you, sugar—,”

“Oh my  _god_ , Steve,” you laugh, as you forcefully pry his hands off your waist. “You’re terrible.”

Steve whines in distress when you slip out of his arms.

“Baby—sweetheart, pretty girl, c’mon—,”

“Now, now, Steve,” you tut, “You’re under the influence of a sex drug. We talked about this, I can’t take your consent seriously now, can I?”

“Yes, you can,” he insists, “My dick wants some action, baby.”

Bucky snorts. He’s finished with the bed and is now standing beside you. “Your dick can have fun with all the toys you’ve got to play with,” Bucky says, gesturing towards the toys in question.

“Nu-uh, don’t want  _toys_ , I want—,”

“Have fun, Stevie!” you sing-song, as Bucky grabs your hand and drags you out of the bedroom. “Try not to die, stay hydrated and sleep if you can, okay? FRIDAY’ll let us know if your condition gets critical.”

“But—,”

You don’t catch what he says after that, because Bucky slams the front door shut behind you.

“FRIDAY?” he asks.

“Captain Rogers will be sealed in your shared living area until his condition returns to normal. His vitals will be monitored, and I will notify you and Dr Sharma in the event of an emergency,” FRIDAY responds smoothly.

Bucky heaves a thankful sigh and slumps against the wall, exhausted.

“Was it that bad?” you ask, patting his bicep consolingly.

He narrows his eyes at you. “He tried to rip my pants off, honey.  _Three times_.”

You shake your head, laughing softly in disbelief. “D’you think he’ll try to break the door down?” you muse.

“Probably. He’ll probably try and do every single stupid thing that comes into his head, like shoving three dildos up his ass at the same time,” Bucky mutters.

You pause. “D’you think…d’you think one of us  _should_ stay with him?”

“Nah,” Bucky says, pushing off from the wall and starting down the corridor. “He’s less of a danger to himself than he would be to us. Besides, FRIDAY’ll keep an eye on him. Now, c’mon,” he says, holding his hand out to you. “I need a shower and one long-ass nap after that.”

——————

Several hours later, you and Bucky are curled up in bed in one of the compound’s spare rooms. The two of you are on your sides, Bucky curled around your back, snoring softly, with his right arm slung over your waist. You can’t fall asleep because you’re worried about Steve, so you drag your tablet closer and ask FRIDAY to patch a video call through to him.

When he answers, you snort in amusement.

Steve looks  _exactly_ like someone who’s spent the last five hours wringing orgasm after orgasm out of his body. His hair is matted and sweaty, random tufts sticking up on the right side of his head. He’s shirtless, and his sweat-soaked skin holds the remains of a deep-red flush. His lips are kiss-bitten and swollen, but the expression on his face is more disgruntled, than anything else.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve says, a tired smile gracing his lips.

“Hey, Stevie, how’re you feelin’?” you ask, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb Bucky.

“Tired,” he answers, flopping down against the pillows. “It’s—it comes in waves. It helps when I come, but I only get a couple’a minutes break in between. I think ‘m gettin’ to the worst of it, now, ‘cause the breaks are gettin’ shorter.”

You hum. “Have you eaten? Had anything to drink?”

Steve nods, then exhales shakily as his eyes flutters shut. “Yeah, baby,” he says breathily.

“Can you sleep? Try and get some sleep, you’ll feel like shit otherwise.”

Steve nods frantically, then bites his lips like he’s trying to stifle a moan. You can see the bicep of his free arm flexing rhythmically and through the speakers, you can hear a muted squelching noise.

“Steve…are you… _jerking off_ right now?” you ask incredulously.

He opens his eyes and at least has the decency to look a little bit guilty. “Yeah,” Steve breathes, “It’s— _fuck_ , you just look so  _good,_ doll, want you so bad.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. “I’m feelin’ kinda objectified, honey,” you say dryly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, breaking off as a low moan leaves his mouth.

You snort. “Well, have fun, Stevie, I’m gonna go to sleep, g’night!”

“No, wait—,”

You cackle evilly as you end the video chat, tossing your tablet to the side. Bucky snuffles and nuzzles his nose against the back of your neck.

“He’s ridiculous,” Bucky mumbles sleepily.

“He is,” you agree, as you snuggle against him. “It’s a good thing we love him.”

——————

All in all, it takes Steve’s body about 20 hours to burn through the drug.

You and Bucky are in the shared kitchen, having lunch with everyone else when FRIDAY breaks the news.

“The Captain’s vitals seem to have stabilised and returned to normal levels,” FRIDAY announces. You and Bucky dash off to your rooms when you hear that; for all of your teasing yesterday, the two of you were genuinely concerned about him.

Things are surprisingly quiet when you open the front door. FRIDAY tells you that Steve is sleeping, so you and Bucky are quiet when you head to the bedroom. When you open the door, you’re assaulted with the stench of sex, sweat and dried lube. Bucky gags, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Steve is sleeping on his stomach, naked. His face is smushed into a pillow and his feet are tangled in the blankets, which are hanging half-off the bed. Empty bottles of water and discarded food wrappers litter the floor; various sex toys are scattered within arm’s reach around his body.

As Bucky moves to start cleaning up the room, you gingerly crawl onto the bed, sitting beside Steve and smoothing his hair out of his face. His skin is definitely cooler to the touch, now, and his cheeks aren’t as flushed as they were yesterday. Steve stirs when your fingers brush his forehead, and he cracks one eye open.

“Hey, honey,” you say softly. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Like my dick’s gonna fall off,” he grumbles. “Like my balls are as fuckin’ dry as the Sahara.”

You laugh softly. “But not horny anymore?”

He shakes his head no. Well. That’s a relief.

“Don’t wanna see another vibrator for another year,” he informs you, words slurring as his eyelid slips shut. “Don’t wan’ dildos anymore, neither.”

You open your mouth to answer, but Steve’s soft snore tells you that he’s fallen back asleep. You turn to look at Bucky, who’s holding up one of the vibrators you’d bought yesterday, examining curiously.

“Well, he might not want to see another one of these for a month, but I can’t  _wait_  to do some experimentin’ of my own.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog this post on tumblr!](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/175107478435/sex-and-sensibility/)


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